An Unexpected Love

Chapter 12: Where is she?

(A/N): Quick note that this chapter will be from both Louis and Allie’s POV at different times, this will not be written as a journal entry. I have however put the date so you see that this is the following day from the last chapter. Hope you enjoy! (gif in exteranl link on the side btw)

 -----------

*Wednesday February 2, 2011*

Louis POV

Last night she said she would meet me here today like we always do; where is she? She’s not answering her phone and never texted me back last night like always. I swear to God if this has to do with her dad I’m gonna kill him. I hate him; I hate him with every fiber of my being. He hits the girl I love and gets away with it. She doesn’t deserve that and I don’t understand how someone could hit their own child. I hate that I can’t stop him and protect her. Calm down Louis, she’s probably fine, maybe she’s just sick or is having a bad day and just didn’t get a chance to text me. She’s fine; I’m sure she is, right? She has to be. But what if she isn’t? What am I going to do; she’s everything to me. 

Dammit, I’m gonna be late if I don’t go to class right now, but I don’t want her to think I wasn’t waiting for her like I said I would. Ugh, I don’t have a choice. If she doesn’t show up to school I’m going to her house right after football practice to see if she’s okay. This is about to be the longest day if she doesn’t show up because I won’t be able to focus on anything.

Allie’s POV

I guess I’ll go back to walking into the house last night; I wish I never did.

I walked in just to be nearly immediately slammed into the wall. My dad was drunk and my brother and mom were both at work which rarely happens; that I’m alone with him. I guess my mom was coming home late because my dad started screaming at me that my mom was a bitch and a lot of other things. Meanwhile he had his hands around my throat, still pushing me up against the wall, my feet not touching the ground and I could barely breathe. He dropped me thankfully but I only got about half a breath in before he started kicking me right in my stomach. I couldn’t do anything to stop him; I just had to endure it while he screamed at me “You’re going to be your mother one day; you’re no good for anything; worthless bitch”. He was right though I guess. After a few hard kicks to my stomach he finally walked away and I didn’t think he was coming back so I slowly got up, clutching my stomach and headed towards the stairs for my room. I didn’t even make it one stair before I was pulled and whipped around to be face to face with the drunken man that is my dad. The alcohol was strong on his breath as he towered over me. I suddenly fell back as I felt a burning on my cheek; he had punched me, hard. It was probably a half hour of him hitting me before he finally yelled at me to “GO UPSTAIRS AND GET OUT OF MY FACE”. As I walked up the stairs slowly due to pain, I saw glass smashing on the wall next to me and I could feel some of it in my forehead. I looked down to the floor to see he had thrown his beer bottle at the wall, followed by him saying “Next time I won’t miss your head; now hurry up and get out.”

I walked into my bedroom and walked straight into my bathroom to look into my mirror. He had beaten me badly and I felt my knees starting to give out. I looked over myself to see bruises everywhere; my arms, legs, face, and stomach. There was no way I could cover it all. I looked at my face to see the blood dripping down from my forehead, where a piece of my dad’s beer bottle had landed. My knee that I already hurt from volleyball two years ago, now feels like I’ve done something to it again; the pain is horrible. Looking over myself all I could do was think about how much I deserved it all. I’m a horrible daughter; I must be for my own dad to do this to me. The pathetic part of it all is that I just wanted to hurt myself more. To anyone that would look at me would think my physical pain would be worse than my internal but they’d be wrong. What he did was just a reminder of how much he hated me; and really, how much I hated myself. I just wanted all the pain to go away. I wanted to feel numb of it all. There’s only one thing I know that can do that for me and that’s cutting. I hate myself every time I do it; but I can’t stop myself.